Unsinkable (10 page)

Rose would absolutely die if she knew that Carrington told Molly the truth, but how else could she explain?

“We spent the night together,” she whispered.

“And?” There was no judgment in Molly’s voice. She just wanted to know what had happened next.

“I guess both our parents were angry when they found out. They wanted us to break things off, they thought people might start talking about us.”

“I find that highly unlikely, given what most of these people do in their spare time.”

Carrington almost laughed. She loved Molly’s honest candor.

“For some reason, I was mad at him when he tried to talk to me.”

“Do you know why you were mad?”

“I kept thinking about it and I think it’s because I knew he wrote the whole thing in that book.  I don’t want to be manipulated anymore. If something happens between us, I want it to be real.”

“Wasn’t it real?”

“It was for me, but everything he did, every word, all of it, he already knew what was going to happen.”

“So you argued. You can make up.”

“You don’t think the book is a problem?”

“I don’t know what to think about that book, any more than I do about that silly story old Stead told at dinner.”

“I couldn’t sleep, that’s why I went to his cabin.”

“I had some trouble sleeping myself.”

“What do I do now?”

“Give it a little time. Maybe you can talk to him later.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It was that bad?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well I’m no expert on matters of the heart, but from my casual observation, that boy is in love with you. Come on. It’s a bit brisk out there but I think we could both use some fresh air.”

Carrington smiled a little at Molly and agreed to go up on deck with her. Molly pretended not to notice that the girl was looking for Beckett as they strolled the deck.

                                  ******

Jack Phillips handed EJ Smith another message. “More ice, sir. This one and another, all saying the same thing.”

“Ice fields, yes, that’s to be expected.”

“No need to worry sir?”

Smith smiled. “Don’t worry Mr. Phillips. I’ll personally let you know if you need to leave your post.”

“Until then sir, I’d better keep sending these out.  Never seen so many messages.”

“Good job, Mr. Phillips. Keep the passengers happy.”

“Yes sir.”

Smith left the Marconi operator and went to the bridge. It wasn’t long before he was joined by Bruce Ismay.

“You understand how important this voyage is, right EJ?”

“I understand that you have made it a media spectacle. I have three more ice warnings.” He handed the latest message from the
Baltic
. Ismay read it and pocketed it.

“It’s just ice. Can’t you avoid it?”

“We will change the course to go slightly south, but we do need to at least let the crew know to be on the lookout.”

“I’m not suggesting that we throw all caution to the wind, EJ, just that we not let this kind of warning slow us down or over react.”

Smith nodded. He didn’t want to have an argument with Ismay on his last voyage, nor did he want to alarm the passengers. He felt none of his sailor’s instincts kicking in, nothing telling him that they should even be worried. He’d sailed this same course without any consequences many times before. And this was the unsinkable ship, the safest and sturdiest ship ever built.

“I’ll make sure Lightoller and Murdoch are aware of the warnings. They’ll make sure the crew keeps watch.”

“The future of our line depends on the success of this voyage, EJ. This one trip, this ship, will put us ahead of Cunard as the most superior line.”

“Understood. We’ll alter the course and all will go as planned.”

Ismay seemed satisfied and left the bridge.

                                 ******

Beckett sat at a table with Warren in the darkened library. He tossed a handful of cards down, his interest in the game over.

“You’re going to lose your considerable fortune soon of you keep playing like that,” Warren said.

“Sorry, Warren, I’m not thinking about cards. And you know we aren’t betting real money.”

“I can always try. Shall I deal another hand?”

“No. I’m not interested in cards right now.”

“For crying out loud, Beckett. Just get that book of yours and write that you made up.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You didn’t stop yourself from engineering a romance in the first place.”

“Could I just be alone for a bit?”

Warren stood. “Why not? You’ve been poor company all day. Come find me when you stop mopping.”

Beckett pulled the book out of his pocket and turned it over in his hands. What, he wondered, made it special? Where did the power to change real life come from? It was just a leather bound book with blank pages. There was nothing inside but his own words, written in his own hand.

“Mind if I join you Beckett?”

He looked up to see Thomas Andrews.

“Of course, Mr. Andrews.”

“It’s a beautiful day, if a little cold. I half expected to see you on deck with Miss St. Clair.”

“Well, we aren’t speaking right now.”

Thomas Andrews took a seat. “Ah, romantic troubles.”

“You could say that. I would have expected you to be out making notes about the changes that need to be made.”

“I needed a few moments away from all the talk about my ‘unsinkable’ ship.”

Beckett put the book back in his pocket and shifted in his chair. “Is the boat really unsinkable, sir?”

“Please, you can drop the ‘sir.’ And it is, in theory anyway. Assuming that only four of its watertight compartments were ever compromised. More than four and she’ll sink like any other ship. It would take quite the collision for that to happen, however.”

“I counted the lifeboats,” Beckett said.

“And there aren’t enough for all the passengers, I know. But then we aren’t expecting to use them.”

“Every other boat we’ve been on, we had lifeboat drills.”

“Again, Mr. Ismay doesn’t see the need for that. Why bother the passengers when they’ll never need to put it to use?”

“Do you agree with that?”

Andrews sighed. “I always think better safe than sorry. But I’ve built a good ship, Beckett. I’m going to trust that she’ll hold up, for this and many other voyages.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise, Mr. Andrews.”

“And there was no offense, taken, Beckett. If you don’t mind my asking, aren’t you going to make things right with Carrington?”

“If I can get up the courage to do so, Mr. Andrews.”

“Find the courage, Beckett. And I never asked you if you found a mummy on board.”

“Actually, we did.”

“Really?” Andrews looked surprised.

“At least that’s what Carrington thought it was, given the size and shape of the box and the warnings written on it in hieroglyphics.”

“Well, let’s hope that’s not foreshadowing of a disaster to come. Not that I believe the notion of curses,” Mr. Andrews said, laughing a little.

 “I’m not sure what I believe about any of that,” Beckett said, wondering what Mr. Andrews would say if he told him about the book.

The door opened and Bruce Ismay scanned the room. Thomas Andrews rose. “It would seem I will need to take refuge somewhere else. I hope things go well for you and Carrington, Beckett. Perhaps I shall see you at dinner?”

Andrews left quickly out another door. Beckett smiled to himself as Ismay circled the room. He didn’t care much for the White Star Line’s owner either, finding his dinner conversation boring and highly self- inflated.

 The book felt as if it was burning a hole in his pocket. He pulled it out. Should he do as Warren had suggested and write a meeting between him and Carrington? Should he presume to bring them back together? To make everything right again, as if they had never argued?

Surely if he did, then Carrington would know it had happened at his hand.

But they only had a few days left on board
Titanic
and he was afraid that if they didn’t speak to each other again, if they didn’t try to fix whatever had happened between them before they reached New York, then all would be lost.

He picked up his pen. Perhaps if he only wrote that the characters met to talk….perhaps if he left the actual conversation between them…between them.

He wrote.
Carrington was standing at the front of the ship when Beckett found her. She turned to look at him and for a moment he thought she might run away, but instead she waited. He cleared his throat and began to apologize….

                             *******

Carrington was bored sitting in the Palm Room listening to the ladies talk over tea. How did Madeleine Astor do it? She was even younger than Carrington and she seemed to be able to play this role of society woman so much easier.

Carrington wondered what it must be like to spend an entire lifetime like this. She knew now that she never planned to be like them, like her mother and Beckett’s and even Mrs. Astor. No, she was going to live her life the way she wanted to.

She’d made her mind up about that after she’d stormed away from Beckett earlier. She wanted the life she wanted. And if that didn’t include a husband, she didn’t care. Except…she did care about Beckett. And even for three days she had allowed herself to dream about what a life with him would be like.